Friday, March 19, 2010

PREVIEW "AWAKENING AVERY"

Everyone knew it was inevitable—everyone but Avery ElkinsThompson herself.

She smashed the television first, though she hadn’t intendedto. She had fumbled with the remote for ten minutes, trying tofigure out how to record an NBC special, and when the TiVobrought up the screen with the list of programs to record—hislist, filled with westerns and mysteries and classic comedies—she lost it. She hurled the remote across the room, not intendingfor it to hit the center of the screen, but it did.

There was something surprisingly cathartic about thesound. The cracking glass and sprinkling shards of glasssounded familiar to her, like the inward sounds of her longdeniedheart, which broke into a thousand pieces everymorning when she woke up in an empty bed and went into thebathroom, where only one toothbrush now hung in the holder.

The sound unlocked years of pain, and emotions rushed outwith such ferocity that, as if possessed, Avery lashed out at theother instruments of torture he had left behind—the jammedVCR that only he could coax into releasing the old familyvideotapes, and the vacuum cleaner that gobbled one of hiserrant anniversary cuff links, a crime for which it had paid theultimate price, complete disassembly. Then, soaked with tears,she went after the real enemy.

She clicked the mouse on the computer and brought up foldersfilled with letters and love notes sent from across the globe. Sheread each one, lamenting over the dates in the headers, the lastone written almost eight months ago from a hotel in Chicago.

Finding it unbearable to read even a word of the text, Averyshut her eyes against the pain but the words came anyway,memorized words read a hundred times over, filled with privatejokes and tender expressions of long-distance longings. Shecould barely breathe, and the waves of shuddering racked herbody until anger and fury replaced her sorrow. A final look at animage pasted into one of the letters sent her over the edge, andshe began to sweep the entire computer system onto the floor.But as the printer slid off the desk she saw herself reverting tothe crisis-driven, fists-at-the-ready person she was before Paul,and she slumped over the keyboard, crying as hundreds of pagesof B’s swept across the screen.

The next day was more productive. A few hours of work, abroom, a dustpan, and $3,327.98 later, all was nearly as goodas new. All except for the gouge in the wooden floor where theold TV landed . . . and the mangled computer. Three days laterher two oldest children and her son-in-law arrived with theiryoungest sibling to help their mother survive her first weddinganniversary as a widow. They actually seemed pleased to seethe changes, assuming them to be signs that their mother wasshowing interest in her home and life again.

The phrase “You have no idea” rattled around in her mind,but steel-willed Avery said innocently, “Thank you, Wes,” asshe offered her cheek to receive the kiss her unmarried, twentyfour-year-old son offered, never missing a beat as she whippedthe egg whites for meringue.

The buzzer went off on the oven and Avery began wipingher hands so she could retrieve the yams.

“I’ll get them. You sit down,” insisted Jamie, taking hold ofher mother’s shoulders and leading her to a chair. “You looktired.”

The concern in Jamie’s voice brought a protective Lukerushing into the kitchen. He took one look at the meringue andsquawked, “Forget the pies! You don’t need to make pies!”

Avery noted the new tone in her children’s voices whenthey addressed her—the worry-driven, slower-tempo,higher-pitched as-if-they-were-talking-to-a-child tone thatannoyingly rose even higher at the end of each phrase,particularly when it included the word “Mom.” It wasdifferent with Luke. Only nineteen and quiet by nature, henow tended to express his emotions with volume. Avery sawthe same thing in other high school students, particularlythe boys. She called it the “Rahhh” principle. Fear, worry,disappointment, hurt—it all came out as “Rahhh!!!” Yes, shecould see through Luke.

She tried not to think about it but knew that somethingmonumental—no, something cataclysmic—had happened tothem as well on the day their adored father died, and it was morethan merely losing a father. It was as if the universe had shifted,placing each of them in a new orbit of sorts. Wes had become theself-proclaimed head of the family, Jamie now wanted to hoverprotectively over Avery, and Luke instantly catapulted himselfout of latent adolescence and into adulthood. It was time, ofcourse, but the rapid shift in her youngest’s perspective on lifewas a rude awakening for both mother and son.

“Mind if I check my email?” asked her twenty-nine-year-oldson-in-law, Brady, already seated in front of the computer.

“Uh . . .” she stalled, but it was too late.

“Hey, Avery—” Brady began as he walked back in carryingthe mangled remains of a USB cord whose end had been rippedaway. He chuckled as Avery hurried over to him, grabbed thewire, and smiled sheepishly as she shoved the contraption intothe pocket of her apron.

“I don’t think you gave the poor thing a fighting chance,Avery,” Brady teased, seemingly unaffected by the glares hiswife was shooting him from across the room. “I can fix it foryou. I’ve got some parts from the store out in my car. Wouldyou like me to work on it?”

Avery cringed with each word. The more attention hefocused on the problem, the wider her three children’s eyesgrew. “Sure, Brady. That’d be just great,” she muttered inmonotone as she hurried over to sauté some Brussels sprouts.

The rest of the day progressed uneventfully. Wes stepped upto say the blessing, and everyone fell silent as that patriarchallandmark was crossed. The meal was accented with lightbanter—reminiscences of days past—though Avery notedthe conspicuous way her children avoided mentioning Paul,as if their father was not only gone but had never existed atall. Feeling as if the best portion of her own life was beingobliterated, she folded her napkin with such deliberatenessthat she brought the conversation to a complete halt. Whenshe looked up, she saw eight worried eyes riveted on her.

“Are you all right, Mother?” Jamie asked softly.

Avery noted how her daughter now consistently referred toher as “Mother” instead of “Mom.” She could barely speak,so she initially responded with a rapid series of nods. “It’s allright to talk about your father,” she finally managed to say.“Avoiding his memory doesn’t ease my sorrow. In fact, itmakes it worse.”

“We just—uh—” mumbled Luke.

Pulling herself together again, Avery said, “I know, Iknow.”

They played board games after supper. Then, while sheand Jamie did the dishes, Avery noticed the guys huddlednear the TV. She didn’t give it much thought other than towince at the extravagance of her purchase, a flat screen, whichshe had selected because an upgrade seemed the only covertjustification for replacing the old set that still worked justfine. Around seven, when Brady caught Avery yawning andsuggested they leave, she saw a new level of worry wash overJamie, knowing she was panicking about leaving her mother.Wes wrapped his arm playfully around his mother’sshoulders and gave her an exaggerated shake. “Up for someMario Kart Wii, Mom?”

“Some other time, pal,” Avery laughed. “The cook is readyto hit the hay.”

With the tension eased sufficiently to allow Jamie to make aguilt-free exit, the young marrieds left, and Avery went insideand began turning off the lights. In the office where the smalldesk lamp glowed brightly, she gazed at the bookshelves wherefifteen Avery Elkins Thompson first editions stood. They werePaul’s proudest possessions, and Avery knew he had read eachone at least three or four times, curled up in the big lounger bythe bay window. They brought her no pleasure this night, norhad they any night since her muse died.

She sat at the computer. Just seeing its screen lit again seemedto mock her pain. There would be no sweet notes waiting in heremail file, no links to exotic destinations they fantasized aboutjourneying to. As she clicked the final command to shut downthe computer, she noticed a little pile of USB connectors witha sticky note in Brady’s handwriting. “Just in case,” it read.

Avery smiled. She adored that son-in-law of hers, though hewas a challenge sometimes, seeming to function better in histechno-babble world where logic revealed the answer to anyproblem, than in the messy world of illogical human drama.

Jamie and Brady were a mismatched pair, and Avery knewit was as much circumstance as passion that drew her perkydaughter to the TA, seven years her senior. He was tall. Shewas short. He was gangly; she was graceful and lithe. She wasalways comely and neat, where Brady was equally at ease inwrinkled polyester or four-day-old sweats. Still, he was kindand he was steady, two elements common to the weakeningfather Jamie had been steeling herself to lose. That fear hadmade her tough and rigid at times, a woman exerting controlover a universe slipping away from her, and sweet Bradyyielded to her as much as possible.

“She is not her mother,” Avery sighed as she switched thelight off. She checked the lights in the downstairs bathroomand passed the “wall of fame,” where all the kids’ photos wereon display. Cookie-cutter faces, she mused. She and Paulwere very different looking, and yet their children lookedundeniably similar, all fair complected and brown-eyed likeher, all possessing various shades of Paul’s dark, wavy hairand trademark pouty smile. You could pick the three of themout of any crowd.

“Did you say something, Mom?” asked Luke as he poureda glass of milk to wash down his second piece of pecan pie.

“I’m just enjoying watching you eat my pie.”

“Your cooking is the best,” Wes chimed in.

Avery eyed them skeptically. “Why are two handsome,single guys hanging around Logan with their mother? Surelythere are some nice young ladies who would appreciate yourcompany.” She eyed Wes carefully, watching for any sign shehad struck a nerve. “Wes?”

Wes backed away into the family room near the TV. “Talkto me, Mom,” he urged as he pulled her along.

Avery knew his question wasn’t intended to be intrusiveor judgmental, yet if she answered truthfully, it would leadthem through a portal from which they might never fullyreturn. Wes could handle it—the acceptance that his motherwas fragile and frightened by the prospects of widowhood.And Avery knew somehow that Jamie was already aware ofthat disconcerting fact. It was Luke, whose sad eyes dartedfrom hers to the floor and back, that she knew would becrushed by the revelation, and for him she would maintainthe pretense of stoicism and carry on.

“All right,” she began hesitatingly, “I admit it. I wastrying to move the darn thing and dropped it on the floor.”

She looked at her boys to gauge the success of hersubterfuge. Wes appeared dubious, but a spark of hopelit Luke’s eyes, so she continued to add more plausibilityto her tale. “I know I shouldn’t have, but . . .” She was aterrible liar. It was the last “talent” the pious woman’s kidswould imagine her honing, but here she was, going for theblue ribbon. “I hadn’t cleaned back there for months, notsince—”

Wes tipped his head sideways as he weighed the story, butLuke jumped right in, relief evident in his voice. “See, Wes. Itold you.” He turned to his mother, chuckling under his breathas he exited the room. “And Wes thought you were losing it.”

Avery sighed, realizing she had temporarily dodged thebullet with Luke, but Wes wouldn’t let it go. “What about thevacuum cleaner? I can understand replacing the VCR. Dad wasthe only one who could make it work anyway, and I know theKirby vacuum cleaner was from the Neanderthal period, but it’sin about eight pieces out in the garage. What’s that about?”

Avery tried to dream up more excuses, but she was toowrung out to play that game any longer. “Please, Wes,” shebegged with a cracking voice, “I’m trying to be strong.”

“For who, Mom?” he asked incredulously, shooting a lookin the direction his brother exited. “For Luke? He’s not a kidanymore.”

“You don’t understand. You and Jamie had more lifeexperiences to prepare you for this.”

“Mom!” Wes turned on her with frustration and then quicklybacked down. “No amount of life experience can prepareanyone for this.”

Avery stared at her son in utter confusion. “Dad’s healthwas failing for years, Wes. Surely you knew.”

“That he was going to die?” His voice was bitter. “Sure, Iknew that. We all knew that it would happen eventually. Heck,it’s just about all we’ve talked about for the last three years.”

Avery sank into the chair and Wes rushed to her side. “I’msorry, Mom,” he said as he knelt beside her. “We’ve all talkedabout how losing Dad has affected each of us, and all of us,even Luke, can see how hard this has been for you.”

Avery stared straight ahead, musing at her folly in trying tohide such a thing from her sensitive, astute children. “I thoughtI’d been so strong. I didn’t want to burden you.”

“You’ve been great, Mom, the way you’ve carried on,but it’s just not normal. People are supposed to lean on thosethey love when they grieve. We’ve had each other to vent andgrieve with, but because you were trying so hard to move on,we didn’t feel we could come to you.”

Avery gasped and turned to her son to be sure she had heardhim correctly. “I . . . I’m so sorry,” she said as tiny tears wether lashes.

“No, Mom, no. We’ll be fine. We know why you handledthings the way you did. We’re just saying that we’re not kidsanymore. Let us help.”

Avery bit her trembling lip to still it.

“I’ve been offered an internship in Florida this semester. Myconstruction program hooked me up with a nice opportunityoutside Orlando, working on a resort. If things go well there Imight finish the rest of my courses online and relocate. I’d likeyou to think about coming down with me. A change would dous both some good.”

“Florida? I could never—”

“Why not?” Wes interrupted. “I know you love thewater, yet you haven’t visited the Baltimore condo in years.Remember how much you and Dad loved Anna Maria Islandthose summers when I went to Bradenton for tennis camp?The island is only two hours from Orlando. We can see eachother plenty, spend weekends together.”

For a second the idea brought back pleasant memories ofsplashing along the beach with Paul and the kids, but the thoughtof going alone made Avery’s stomach knot, and she stoodabruptly. “Thank you, Wes, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”

“Why not?” he asked softly.

Avery looked at the floor and shook her head. “I wouldn’tfeel right. Not without Dad.”

Avery heard the accusation in her son’s voice and spunaround to stare at him. “What are you saying?”

Wes quickly backpedaled. “All I’m saying is that Daddid what made him happy.” The acrid tone was still there.“Wouldn’t he want you to do the same now?”

Avery knew that wasn’t all he had been trying to say, but shecouldn’t get into this discussion—not this night. “I’m going tobed, Wes,” she said firmly as she headed for the stairs.

“Just think about it, okay?” he called after her.

Avery headed over to the mirror on the wall at the topof the stairs to look at her reflection. She wondered if theoverwhelming fatigue overtaking her was as apparent on theoutside. It had been so bad lately that she had gone to seethe doctor to be sure her own heart wasn’t failing. Surreally,the thought didn’t frighten her, not at first, anyway. Life hadbecome so daunting, and the promises of eternity were sosweet that joining Paul in paradise seemed fine to her. Thatwas until she considered what losing two parents would do toher children, so she made the appointment and saw the doctor.As soon as she knew her heart was fine the rest of the diagnosisseemed trite.

“You’re depressed,” the doctor declared.

Ya think? she felt like saying, but she simply closed hereyes and nodded politely as two prescriptions were shovedinto her hand.

She studied the image in the mirror, vaguely recognizingthe face. It was a nice face, not beautiful but pleasant enough.She noted that her mouth now fell into a natural frown unlessshe made it a point to smile, and she was distressed to notethat her eyes were now droopy too. Removing her glasses, shestood nearer the mirror to better see herself. The past few yearshad doubled the lines surrounding those forty-eight-year-oldeyes, around which she had previously spent years slatheringanti-aging cream. She stared at her disappointing reflectionagain. Her hair was a drab brown, neither long nor short, herbrows bushy and her complexion pale. Why had she let herappearance go? She knew the answer was the same as it wasto every other thing that had gone awry in her life. BecausePaul is gone.

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“A nation which does not remember what it was yesterday, does not know what it is today, nor what it is trying to do. We are trying to do a futile thing if we do not know where we came from or what we have been about.”-Woodrow Wilson